


tomato sauce jars

by belivaird_st



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-27 02:51:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15015065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belivaird_st/pseuds/belivaird_st
Summary: Carol and Therese have a bit of trouble unscrewing a jar of tomato sauce during the night they invite Harge’s parents over for dinner.





	tomato sauce jars

“How wrong it was of me to go along and invite Harge’s folks over here for dinner tonight,” Carol spoke with a snort, pulling out a couple of glass jars of tomato sauce from the cupboard before setting them noisily down on the Formica countertop. “Remind me next time to just grab the phone from my hands and hang up.”

“I could never do that,” Therese murmured with a grin. She stood back and watched Carol bend over struggling; trying to unscrew off the metal cap from one of the two jars. The cap had been sealed on so tight, it was making Carol’s whole face turn a dark shade of pink.

“You're going to hurt yourself, Carol, stop it,” Therese warned her. Moving quickly, she stood close to her girlfriend and reached her hand out for the jar. “Here. Let me try...”

“Go for it,” Carol puffed out, releasing her grip. Leaning back upwards, she whisked a few hanging loose curls off her sweaty face. She watched Therese make an effort unscrewing the cap. With no such luck, Carol laughed breathlessly once Therese pulled away and shook her throbbing hands, scowling. 

The sound of a doorbell rang along with a few careful, sharp knocks. Cursing under her breath, Carol rubbed her hands on her apron and bounced on the pads of her nylon-clad feet.

“Oh, joy. They’re here. Go ahead and let them in. Bring them right into the living room,” Carol instructed.

“What about you?” _What about dinner?_ Therese wanted to add, but Carol threw a worn out wave with her hand around the kitchen.

“I’ll just keep myself busy here trying to come up with something,” Carol said. “You distract the Airds and give them your company.” Therese nodded and hurried off into the hallway to go open the front door.

“ _Therese. Hello, sweetie darling,_ ” greeted both Mr. and Mrs. Aird, taking a brief moment to exchange the small brunette their hugs and kisses on the mohair welcome mat before making their way inside. Therese politely took their hats and coats before leading them towards the living room. 

Mr. Aird stood at his post in front of the fireplace with his arms crossed behind his back, while Mrs. Aird carefully smoothed out her long skirt before sitting down on the edge of the pink velvet piano bench. 

“Is Carol cooking in the kitchen? I don’t think I smell anything,” Harge’s mother declared.

“Yes, well, no, I mean-” Therese babbled. She felt like an idiot still standing around with the Airds’ belongings. 

“Don't pester the poor girl, Jennifer,” Mr. Aird chuckled, studying a small mantleclock that didn’t work properly. “We are guests in this house!”

“Let me go put away your things,” Therese mumbled. She skirted off with her arms weighed down from the silk shawl, the two jackets, and fedora hat. 

“Thank you,” Mrs. Aird spoke stiffly. She flicked off a fuzz of lint before folding her hands together, looking rather forlorn and bored.

Therese came back empty-handed, more nervous than ever now. She no longer had the excuse to go do something and leave Rindy’s grandparents. As of this moment, she had to give them her company and distract them somehow.

“So where’s Rindy tonight?” Therese asked, walking towards the couch across from the elderly, far away from them as possible.

“With her father. Harge has taken Rindy to a car show up in North Hampton,” Mr. Aird explained.

“Oh.” Therese blinked. “H-How nice.”

“What exactly are we having for dinner, if you don’t mind me asking, Therese?” Mrs. Aird raised her brows in a such a pristine, orderly fashion with her lips pursed. 

“Well,” Therese began. “I’m not really quite sure-”

“I got it!” Carol piped in, stepping into the room now with the metal cap in one hand. She was all out of breath with bits of flour in her hair and a glob of tomato sauce on her cheek. “All it takes is a little elbow grease, my darlings!”

“What’s that on your face? Blood?” Mr. Aird squinted his eyes.

Mrs. Aird gasped near the piano. Carol laughed and then scooped the glob of canned tomato with her index finger. “False Alarm,” she announced. “It’s only tomato sauce!”


End file.
